


Omelet

by legolasagna



Category: Sleepy Hollow
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 21:07:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legolasagna/pseuds/legolasagna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichabod and Abbie fluff :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omelet

When Abbie came to visit Ichabod on Tuesday afternoon, he was on the couch, watching a movie.   
“Jack is very illogical, is he not?” he said to Abbie. She saw the movie Titanic was on. She sighed and nodded.   
“Titanic is kind of dramatic.”  
“I can tell! An unsinkable ship being sunk is too ironic to happen literally,” he scoffed.  
Abbie frowned slightly.   
“Uh… Crane,” she started.   
“Good God this is intense! Look at that! The ship is breaking in half! Rose really should have gotten into that flotation device…” Ichabod interrupted.   
“Crane, the Titanic was real,” she said, sitting down next to him on the couch.   
He whipped his head around to look at her.   
“Jack and Rose are real?”  
“No, not them. They’re not real. The Titanic was.”  
He blinked twice and lifted an eyebrow.  
“The unsinkable ship was sinkable?”  
“Yeah, that’s what happened. The Titanic went off on its maiden voyage in 1912 and never came back. The ship was just found in the past few years at the bottom of the ocean.”  
Ichabod looked back at the TV where the Titanic was still playing. Abbie instantly regretted telling him that it was real when she saw his horror and how upset he was.   
“So all of those people died?” he asked. Abbie nodded silently. She wanted to comfort him in some way.   
“How could that happen?” he asked, more to himself than to Abbie. “So many people died… that only happens in wars, how could a vehicle of human ideal kill that many people?”  
She reached her hand out and rested it on his shoulder comfortingly. He glanced at her hand on his shoulder then his blue eyes met her brown ones.   
“Thank you, Miss. Mills,” he said softly. Her insides clenched at how delicate his voice had become. Then he straightened up and she dropped her hand.   
“You should be getting some sleep, leftenant,” he said. “We have a busy day tomorrow.” He picked up the remote, then stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out what button to press. She took it from him and pressed the power button. The TV turned off.   
Ichabod’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as he tried to come up with something, but when he produced nothing, he huffed and marched off.   
Abbie wondered how he slept in the archives. Had he made a bed, or did he sleep on the floor? Every time she offered him to stay at her place, he rejected the offer without hesitation. Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask once more.   
“Crane,” she called. He stuck his head out from behind a filing cabinet.   
“Yes, Miss. Mills?”  
“You can come and stay at my place tonight. I have a spare bedroom that could be yours…”  
“No thank you, I do like it here.”  
She frowned. “Suit yourself.”  
“Why do you ask me that often?”   
“Because you’re sleeping here, in this probably uncomfortable place, and I have an extra room.”  
“Would it make you feel better if I was there instead of here?”  
“I don’t… okay, yeah it would,” she resigned. Considering he was going to be her partner for the next seven years, they might as well get used to being around each other a lot. And Abbie liked his company.   
“Alright, I’ll go,” he said, taking his jacket. She tried to hide her smile, but was unable to. 

 

When most women invited a man over, and they woke up smelling something, it was most likely delicious, but she knew Ichabod Crane was in her kitchen and the smell of something being cooked was not delicious.   
“Crane!” she yelled, catapulting out of bed.   
“It’s alright leftenant! I just burned some orange juice!” he called.   
Abbie arrived in the kitchen and could barely see him through the smoke.   
“You burned orange juice?” she asked, utterly bewildered.   
“Yes.”  
She was about to ask how, but knowing that he wouldn’t know, she just shook her head in disbelief.   
“Why don’t you let me make breakfast?” she said, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him out of the kitchen.   
“My apologies, Miss. Mills,” he said, but he just sounded annoyed.   
“It’s fine, Crane, you’ll get the hang of cooking soon. What were you trying to make?” she looked in the pan and examined the black lump with a liquid surrounding it.   
“An omelet,” he said dejectedly.   
“Did you even use an egg?” He started to say yes, but then he thought about it and squinted, thinking back to if he did.   
“Do you want an omelet?”  
“Yes…”  
She sighed, but was smiling anyway. Yeah, living with Ichabod was going to be adventurous alright.


End file.
